


Lollipop

by hobbitsdoitbetter



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Daddy Kink, Daddy's Good Girl, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Dom/sub Play, F/M, Filthy, First Time Bottoming, First Time Topping, Gratuitous Smut, Hurts So Good, Molly Hooper is a Tease, Oral Sex, Praise Kink, Sexual Fantasy, Shameless Smut, Sherlock Is A Bit Not Good, Sherlock is a Good Boyfriend, Slow Build, Smut, Submission, Topping from the Bottom, daddy!lock, eventually
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2019-02-19 07:02:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13118538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hobbitsdoitbetter/pseuds/hobbitsdoitbetter
Summary: Molly's never told anyone-ANYONE- about her little kink. After all, what modern, confident professional woman would admit to wanting a man she can call Daddy? (Never mind all the other naughty things she wants him to do).But then, of course, her wonderfully observant boyfriend has to start buying her presents and calling her his, "good girl."Let the kinky shameless smut commence...





	Lollipop

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [Smutfest2017](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Smutfest2017) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
>  
> 
> Molly's never told anyone-ANYONE- about her little kink. After all, what modern, confident professional woman would admit to wanting a man she can call Daddy? (Never mind all the other naughty things she wants him to do). 
> 
> But then, of course, her wonderfully observant boyfriend has to start buying her presents and calling her his, "good girl."
> 
> Let the kinky shameless smut commence...

Disclaimer: This fanfiction is not written for profit and no infringement of copyright is intended. 

 

**LOLLIPOP**

 

Truth be told, Molly never expected this of him.

 

Acerbic, impatient, brilliant Sherlock Holmes had never struck her as the type of man who would indulge a lover. While she may have been delighted when he came to her after Sherrinford and explained that yes, he loved her, he’d just never realised until the moment he said it that he loved her, Molly hadn’t expected him to change.

 

She certainly hadn’t expected him to change in his behaviour towards _her_.

 

_And yet…_

 

It starts one night in bed, amid whispers and stroking hands and gentle, soft kisses. Three months into their relationship they’re still in the honeymoon stage… Which is probably why (Sherlock being Sherlock) he tells her the story of his weird Victorian acid trip where he dreamt that she was living as a man in order to pursue her profession.

 

Molly listens, amused, surprised and rather pleased that he had made her a gruff, feisty pioneer rather than some simpering, maidenly sylph-

 

And then he says the dread words: “Aren’t you clever now that _Daddy’s_ gone.”

 

He had attributed those words to her but in his dream he aimed them at John, apparently.

 

In reality she stiffens- shock, arousal, embarrassment warring together- and when he looks down at her, nestled against his chest, he frowns. Cocks his head. He can doubtless feel how freaked out she is to hear that phrase from _him._

 

“A Bit Not Good?” he asks, staring at her rapidly reddening face. Something moves through his expression, and then- “Or Quite Good Actually, hm?”

 

And he grins at her smugly, like he’s figured out something wonderful.

 

Mortified, Molly shakes her head. Goes to move away from him. She didn’t want him thinking- He didn’t need to know- _Nobody knew- Christ, she’d never even told_ _ **Tom**_ _that-_

 

At her silence his smile falters. He peers at her more closely.

 

After a moment he must see her discomfort because he kisses her forehead. Hushes her.

 

“It’s alright, Molly,” he says, more softly. His hands gentle on her, fingers playing across her skin. “We don’t have to talk about it,” he tells her and at that she finally relaxes. Turns to him and kisses him until he can’t remember his own name, let alone her reaction to that small, innocuous word: Daddy.

 

Still, she can’t help the excitement she’d felt- Or the shame that lingers in its aftermath.

 

She just prays that her wonderful, doting, entirely too observant boyfriend doesn’t guess what that word does to her- She’s not sure how she’ll live with herself if he does.

 

**********************************

 

He doesn’t say anything for weeks after, and slowly Molly calms down. Accepts that he’s not been frightened away upon realising she has a slight (rarely indulged, utterly unwanted) kink. A kink regarding the word Daddy.

 

 _Besides, if ever there was a man unsuited to being someone’s Daddy Dom,_ Molly sometimes muses, _then that man must surely be Sherlock Holmes._

 

And so she throws herself into their relationship with as much vanilla abandon as she can muster. After all, in their slide from friends to lovers, things hasn’t changed that much. She still helps him in the lab, lets him kip in her bed when he’s tired. She still encourages him to eat and makes sure he takes care of his health. The only difference is that nowadays they also shag too, and sometimes (though the word itself is forbidden) they spend the evening cuddling. Indeed, Sherlock is proving himself an excellent boyfriend, being interesting, occasionally infuriating but usually surprisingly sweet-

 

So perhaps she shouldn’t be surprised when she comes home one day to find a dress box on her bed. A shoe box too.

 

When she opens them, she stops and stares at their contents, her cheeks turning rapidly scarlet.

 

Inside there’s a pure white babydoll nightdress. A pair of white stockings. A pair of white lace knickers, with a note in Sherlock’s handwriting stating that they’re for _Daddy’s best girl._

 

Molly’s heart skips a beat in her chest.

 

In the shoe box are a pair of white kitten heels, not terribly high, and another note in Sherlock’s handwriting telling her to be ready when he gets home at five.

 

It is now about 4.30.

 

Molly sits down on the bed, not sure whether she’s annoyed or thrilled that her boyfriend has done this- _Or perhaps she’s really more terrified_. Arousal mixing with wariness, the memory of how badly this could go warring with the desire to act on an impulse it feels like she’s always bloody had.

 

She’s so torn that she still hasn’t decided by the time Sherlock gets there, something which he realises when he walks into her room and sees her sitting among the boxes chewing her thumbnail-

 

“You’re not wearing them,” he says, and she could be wrong but he almost… He almost sounds disappointed.

 

“I, um, I wasn’t sure whether I should,” she stammers out and he looks at her. Frowns, scanning her from head to toe in that way he does. After a moment his expression clears.

 

Nevertheless, Molly feels like a specimen under a microscope.

 

“If you don’t want to,” he says softly, coming towards her, “then just tell me so, Molly.”

 

He comes to stand in front of her- she’s still on the bed- and reaches a gentle, gloved hand out to touch her chin. He tilts her face up towards him.

 

“But if you’re just not doing this because you’re worried what I’ll think-”

 

“It’s not that,” she murmurs, her heart suddenly thudding in her chest. “I just…” She’s never talked to anyone about this before, not really. _She certainly never imagined telling_ _ **him**_. “I just don’t know what you think I want from you,” she supplies after a moment. “And I don’t know what you want from me either…”

 

Slowly, Sherlock hunkers down so that he’s eye to eye with her.

 

Slowly, he takes her hands in his own and leans in, his voice low and sure. Honeyed and rough as whisky.

 

_She can get drunk on him when he talks like that._

 

“I want you to put on those clothes and I want to treat you like my good little girl, Molly,” he says, as if this is the most normal sentiment in the world, and not some ridiculous taboo.

 

She can’t tamp down the way her breath hitches at those words, and when he hears this he smiles. Leans into her.

 

The next words are whispered directly into her ear.

 

“I want you to put on your prettiest clothes for me,” he continues, “and then I want you to let your Daddy treat his special girl the way she deserves to be treated. Every inch of her. Every part. I want to do this for you, Molly- And I’m certainly going to make sure that you make it worth my while.”

 

And without warning his tongue darts out, licking along the shell of her ear as his hands tighten their grip on her. She can’t help it, arousal is flooding through her. Just hearing him say those words is enough to turn her on, let alone everything else. “Are- Are you sure?” she stammers.

 

His eyes darken. “Are you sure, what?”

 

She visibly swallows. _He can’t mean…_ “Are you sure…” A deep breath, she has to make herself say it. “Are you sure... Daddy?”

 

His smile is wicked. “Oh, darling girl, yes.”

 

And he reaches out, presses a kiss to her mouth. As he does, she feels a sense of… something move through her. A tension breaking, something shifting loose. Her nipples peak in arousal, stomach starting to heat, and at the sight of it he smiles. Takes her wrist in his hand. Holds it.

 

He must be able to feel her pulse pounding, she thinks dizzily.

 

“I’m sure, little one,” he says and at that she again takes in a slight breath. “Daddy knows what he wants to do to you.” Her eyes widen in surprise and his smile turns sinful. “What?” he murmurs. “Did you think I’d not research how to pleasure my good girl, hm? Do you think I’ve not looked at the things _you’ve_ looked at, when you’re alone? Why I’ve spent hours, my hand on my cock, your face in my mind, imagining what I wanted to do to this delectable, sweet little body once I was finally ready to show you who you belong to...”

 

And he slides one hand up to cup her cheek. Slips his thumb along her lower lip until she obediently opens up and sucks on the digit gently.

 

It feels so good to do as he bids her.

 

“Such a good girl,” he murmurs. “So pliant, so obedient. You’re every bit as perfect as I knew you would be.” Slowly, he pulls his thumb from her mouth with a gorgeous little pop. “Now are you going to put on your pretty clothes for me?”

 

Mutely Molly nods. “Yes, Daddy,” she murmurs. Her thighs twist together as she tries to control her arousal. _She can’t believe, she can’t believe-_ _ **Oh fuck, oh fuck, she’s really going to do this- He really wants her to do this-**_

 

“And are you going to tell Daddy what your safeword is, just in case we go too fast and have to slow down?” he asks more softly. Again she nods. Almost soundlessly she murmurs, “Red,” because it’s honestly one of the only words she can think of right now. Also because in her fantasies, that’s always the one she uses.

 

“Red,” Sherlock repeats. “That’s a good safeword, little one.” He stands up, moves towards her en-suite. Again he smiles that wicked smile and Molly’s heart flips in her chest. “I’m going to take such good care of you,” he tells her. “Now go put your pretty clothes on, Daddy’s going to have a shower.

 

“I want you ready when I get back in, is that clear?”

 

And without another word he starts pulling off his coat. His gloves.

 

Molly scurries to her feet and takes them from him. Kneels down to help him out of his socks and shoes. Shyly she nods up at him. Presses a small, hesitant kiss to his hip, through his trousers. One hand catches the back of her skull. Cradles it. His nails scrape against her scalp and she can’t help the little shudder it raises in her as he presses her mouth to his crotch.

 

She can feel the fabric tenting against her lips as his prick grows hard.

 

“Clothes now,” he mutters down to her. “Treats later.” And with that he steps into the en-suite. Closes the door behind him.

 

The sound of the shower fills the room even as Molly remains on her knees.

 

For a moment she’s breathless, uncertain, but then-

 

Slowly, she starts to undress for her- she lets herself think it- she starts to undress for her Daddy.

 

Slowly, she piles her clothes neatly on top of his. Slides off her bra and sensible white boy boxers, replacing them with those lacy little knickers.

 

Those stockings.

 

Those shoes.

 

She leaves the babydoll nightdress until last, after she’s put on her makeup. After she’s put her hair up in two high pigtails and managed to calm her heart. She shivers as she feels the cool silk slide over her bare breasts, the hem of the garment ghosting over the tops of her thighs. By this time Sherlock’s finished up his shower: He opens the door to the en-suite, nothing but a towel around his waist for modesty and as soon as he lays eyes on her Molly feels her pulse quicken. Her belly heat.

 

It’s like she can feel his gaze all over, raising goosebumps on every inch of her skin.

 

“Do I-?” She lowers her eyes demurely, tries again. “Do I look alright, Daddy?” She pulls self-consciously at the hem of the babydoll. “Am I- Is this what you wanted?”

 

She can’t believe how simultaneously turned on and anxious she feels.

 

It seems she needn’t worry however. Smoothly, gracefully, almost like he’s stalking her, Sherlock pads into her bedroom. Circles her and takes in how she looks wearing his gifts.

 

The experience of being so closely observed makes her stomach twist into knots.

 

Molly’s rooted to the spot; She can feel his breath against her skin. This close she can see the water droplets threading through his hair, can smell the fresh scent of his shower-gel and shampoo. The musk of his body, readying itself for her. Not saying a word he reaches out and once again touches her face. His knuckles glide along her cheek.

 

She can see his cock straining against the terricloth of his towel and it makes her mouth water.

 

“I am a lucky man,” he murmurs, almost reverently, and at the compliment Molly can’t help it. She smiles up at him.

 

“Do you really like it, Daddy?”

 

Sherlock’s nods, his own smile as bright as hers, and the last of her worry that this isn’t something he wants- couldn’t be something he wants- disappears in a puff of happiness and excitement and sheer, overwhelming lust.

 

 _This game,_ she can’t help but think, _is on._

 

So, just as she’d always dreamed of, Molly drops to her knees before him. Looking up at him she lays her hands on his lips and asks quietly, “May I please have my treat, Daddy?”

 

Sherlock swallows hard but nods.

 

“Of course you may, little one,” he tells her as with deft hands she pulls the towel from his hips. Stares at his jutting, proud prick.

 

“You got me a lollipop,” she tells him and she can’t hide her grin. “It looks delicious.”

 

“It’s all for you, little one,” he tells her, his voice dark. “Best you set to work on it, there’s a good girl.”

 

Eyes still on his, Molly wets her lips. Presses a kiss to his length, then another, then another. She strokes her nose along the reddened flesh, her little hands coming up to caress his balls. To tug and squeeze. He catches her fingers, moves them around to cup the cheeks of his arse- she knows he likes that- and when she’s in place his own hands come back down to once again cup the back of her head. To dig his fingers in.

 

_It makes her feel so vulnerable but so... centred too._

 

The head of his cock slides along her lower lip and Molly shivers. “Open that pretty mouth,” he tells her. “Take Daddy’s cock between your lips and suck on it just like a good girl should.” Another dark smile. “Unless, of course, you want me to take it away-”

 

“No, Daddy, please...” And almost shaking with arousal now, Molly nods. Opens up. Takes as much of him as she can manage.

 

He feels somehow bigger in her mouth, harder this time, or maybe it’s just how turned on she is.

 

Hollowing her cheeks, bobbing her head, she starts to suck. Runs her tongue along the slightly leaking slit until she’s rewarded by a startled hiss of pleasure and then a murmured, “Just like that, little one… Just like that… You’re being so bloody good for me...” Sherlock guides her movements with the hand at the back of her head, his grip hard and steady. Though in the past Molly’s not liked the feel of that with him she finds she does-

 

_She knows her Daddy’s showing her how to please him best, that he won’t let her be hurt._

 

And so she gives herself over to him. Gives herself entirely. Soon she has him thrusting into her mouth. Gasping her name raggedly. He’s swearing about how fucking gorgeous she’s being for him, muttering to high heaven how good it is to finally do this to her. Molly loses herself in the feeling of what they’re doing, in the easy, pliant play of it. All that exists, all that matters is her Daddy: If he wants to come in her mouth then she’ll swallow him down. If he wants to come inside her cunt then she’ll take every drop he can give. Her fingers knead and dig into his arse cheeks; the pain with the pleasure makes him stutter. In fact, for a moment she thinks he’s just going to keep going but he suddenly tugs at her head. Pulls her lips away-

 

“On the bed, little one,” he rasps, and Molly is extremely proud of how absolutely ravished he looks now. “Knees wide, arse up: Daddy’s going to fuck you-”

 

“Like this?” she asks, faux innocent, scooting back and kneeling, and to her surprise and delight his hand shoots out. Strikes her sharply on the backside once. Twice. Three times.

 

It stings in the most delicious way.

 

“Don’t cheek me,” he tells her. The fierceness in his tone sends yet more wetness gushing through her core and she drops her eyes from his obediently. Her nipples her now tightened to an almost painful degree. “Lean forward,” he orders, gesturing for her the kneel crossways on the bed rather than lengthways. For a moment Molly’s confused and then she realises- She realises he wants her to kneel in front of the mirror on her wardrobe door.

 

He grins almost savagely as he sees her realisation.

 

“That’s right, little one,” he mutters darkly. “Daddy wants you to watch while he fucks his good girl. He wants you on all fours while he stuffs his cock in your cunt- Would you like that, hm?”

 

“Oh, Daddy,” Molly murmurs. “Oh please, Daddy, yes...”

 

And so fast that she makes him laugh she scrambles to get into place. He climbs onto the bed behind her, his hands sliding possessively over her thighs. Her arse. He tugs at the white knickers he bought her, yanks them down so that for a moment they frame her buttocks. Gifts her with another, lighter tap and then tugs them down and off her with one hand, his other sliding up her her legs and under the babydoll to press along the curve of her arse, her spine.

 

She gasps as his thumb grazes the puckered ring of her tight, virgin hole and again she hears him laugh, even as he presses a kiss there before pulling away.

 

“Spread your knees,” he orders and she nods, helplessly. She’s not sure she’s ever felt this good before: It feels like her clit is throbbing in time with the beating of her heart. “Wider!” he snaps and she nods helplessly again. “Are you ready, little one?”

 

“Oh God, Daddy, yes.” And she pants as she feels him slide his cock along her the seam of her buttocks. The very edge of her cunt. He lets out another low, dark laugh at the impatient, whining noises she makes. The way she’s squirming for him. She can’t help it though: He feels so big, so hard. She wants him inside her so badly. _She doesn’t know why he’s teasing her, but Christ she needs him to stop._

 

To her surprise though, one big, hot hand snakes down her body. Cups her cunt. His thumb presses into her slit, against her clit, just as his cock begins to breach her.

 

Helpless, desperate, her eyes meet his in the mirror before her and as she does so she moans so loudly it makes her cheeks redden in embarrassment.

 

“That’s my sweet little girl,” he says. “That’s my good little Molly…”

 

And with a dark, sharp smile Sherlock nods and then thrusts forward, inching himself into her with delicious deliberation. Filling her up thrust by gorgeous thrust. He refuses to go quickly, grunting, and it drives her to distraction, one of his hands coming up to grab her ponytails and yank her head roughly back-

 

“Come on, little one,” he mutters in her ear. “Come on and show Daddy how much you want it. Show Daddy how much you like fucking yourself on his big, juicy, prick...”

 

And despite herself Molly opens her eyes. Meets his gaze in the mirror.

 

Despite herself, Molly begins to move her hips in wanton, shameless abandon.

 

She watches herself in the mirror: Her reflection both shocks and delights her: She looks utterly debauched, her knees spread, her weight on her bent elbows. Her arse is high in the air and her Daddy- Her Sherlock- is fucking her hard, his own face a mask of ecstasy and sheer, animal lust.

 

She can feel it move through her with each thrust, the dropping away of all restraint. All worry. All pretence. It’s a looseness that might almost be floating, so welcome, so wanted is it. _It feels, Molly can’t help but think, like finally coming home_.

 

Because she’s here and she’s now, she’s full of him and centred. She’s wet and hot and sticky with want and all she gives a toss about is fucking her Daddy as hard as she can. So she keeps pumping her hips. Doing her very best to please him. She can feel Sherlock moving within her. One hand is still at her cunt and the other’s at her hip. Controlling her movements. Showing her just how he wants her.

 

He keeps muttering into her ear that she’s not allowed to stop.

 

“We’re going to fuck so hard, little girl,” he snarls, “that you see fucking stars.”

 

And so faster and faster she goes, heaving in air, making the bed shake. Shuddering at the blunt, heady pleasure of his cock ramming into her. _The pleasure of being fucked by him is almost more than she can take._ The scent of sex and him is in her nostrils. The sounds of sex and him are in her ears. The trembling in her thighs is a welcome, jerking burn; Her tits sway and bounce with the force of her movements and her throat’s getting hoarse from babbling filthy, needy, begging things to her Daddy and yet she never, ever wants to stop.

But it can’t continue- There’s a hiss, a snap of pleasure and then suddenly she’s coming, suddenly every inch of her is alive and electric with want and fierce, naked, triumphant, howling hunger-

 

Her elbows give way, her body toppling forward, but before she can truly engage with that’s happened, Sherlock’s pulled her back to him.

 

His arm around her waist, her shoulder-blades now pressed against his chest, he still keeps pistoning into her. Keeps fucking her through the aftershocks.

 

“Watch me,” he tells her, “Watch me while your Daddy fucks his good girl-” and Molly does as she’s told.

 

Jostling, shuddering, their eyes meet in the mirror and so she sees it, sees the moment he comes. Knows it even before she feels him spilling inside her, the stickiness of his juices sliding down her inner thighs.. For his movements turn jerky, arms spasming around her. He shows her his teeth, fingers digging into her belly and then he’s yelling her name, his teeth bared and nipping sharply at her throat though he doesn’t break the skin. The fingers of one hand curl sharply up inside her and that small bit of pain sets her off again, another orgasm spiralling through her even as a breathless, shaken Sherlock pants against the flesh of her throat- Even as he murmurs that Christ, he loves her and she answers that she loves him-

 

And then it’s bright and wet and gorgeous and all she can see is her Daddy. Her Sherlock.

 

She collapses back against him, panting and sated, and she doesn’t think she’s ever felt so satisfied before.

 

Eventually, his grip on her softens. The look on his face turns gentler. Drowsy and satisfied, Sherlock presses kisses to her cheeks, her throat, even as his fingers trace aimless, soft patterns against her mound. The flesh of her belly.

 

She threads their fingers together and in unison they sigh, utterly spent.

 

Molly lies slumped against him- she doesn’t think she can move- feeling utterly limp and utterly relaxed. _There’s not an inch of her that feels unsatisfied_. She looks up at the mirror and this time what she sees surprises her: there’s no debauchery there now, just gentleness. Tenderness. She can see Sherlock’s still inside her and as she watches his free hand drifts gently up her body. Cups her breast with his big, hot palm even as he presses another kiss to her cheek. Her throat.

 

Their reflection in the mirror is beautiful.

 

She can’t help it: her eyes prick with happy, emotive tears. Instantly he stops. Looks at her askance. “Are you alright?” he asks and there’s worry in his voice. Sudden uncertainty. “Did I- Did I hurt you?”

 

Just like that he’s Sherlock again, the man she’s loved for years. The man who’s so much more than her Daddy.

 

Molly shakes her head. Twists in his embrace- she has to relinquish his cock some time- and kisses his lips. His eyelids. His cheeks. She curls up against his chest and nuzzles into him; It feels so relaxed, so… right.

 

She can’t bear the thought of his regretting anything they’ve just done. _So-_

 

“That was wonderful, Daddy,” she breathes out, eyes drifting shut in rapture. She feels his tension lessen, ever so slightly. Hears him let out a quiet, relieved sigh. When she looks up at their reflection this time, there’s a small, almost-shy smile on his face- _He’s so pleased that he could please her, she realises_.

 

“Thank you for my treat,” she tells him. “I promise I’ll be an even better girl next time.”

 

And she kisses him. Smiles at him when she pulls away before laying her forehead on his.

 

For a moment he says nothing, his breath coming, arms tightening around her; It takes him so long to answer that Molly looks up at him, worried, but then the look on his face makes her heart skip a beat. For he’s looking at her with wonder, with fondness and joy.

 

_It makes her feel almost... golden._

 

He strokes his thumb along her cheek and when he speaks there’s a tightness in his throat that wasn’t there before. She can hear it.

 

“You’re so very lovely, my little one,” he tells her. “I’m so glad you wanted to share this with me.” He kisses her cheek. “I’m so glad we could share this together.”

 

The next day they’ll get up and go about their day, content in their usual lives. There’ll be cases, and autopsies, and worries galore. There’ll be inlaws and friends and work, the irritating minutiae of life. But always, always, from now on there will be a treat just around the corner- For both of them. Molly will see to it.

 

_And if she’s not mistaken, her Daddy will too._

 

 

 

 


End file.
